Six Jewels.

A paltry sum in most eyes.

A pitiful total that may as well extend across the reaches of impossible achievement for Vyra, her eyes staring equally upon the half-loaf of bread before her with looks of envy, mournfulness, hope, and desperation. Laid upon the small stand within the baker’s establishment, the presentation no different than that of plenty of other confectionaries presented about on tables scattered about within on the showroom. But in it there existed something so intriguing about, a simple elegance to it that she yearned for.

“Hey,” a booming voice billowed out through the store, its tone aggressive, a hint of frustration mixing in with disdain. “No reaching ‘less you lookin’ to pay.” The no-nonsense of his tone cut through Vyra like a knife, a quick moment required to realize her hand midway through extending towards the bread, the simple fascination of it having drawn her in like a moth to flame. “What. The bread? Six Jewels,” his words were spoken matter-of-factly, nothing clear within his tone save for small levels of annoyance. Bread was bread, but this young girl seemed to think otherwise.

They cut through like a knife, whatever sort of gleam or anticipation that may have been within Vyra’s eyes snuffed out like a candle flame between two fingers. Her shoulders relieved of stress, defeat settling in. Six Jewels… The baker spoke with the dismissiveness like that of a traveler to a small rock in the road. It mattered like to him; most of the baked goods scattered about cost far more, what would he have to care towards a simple half-loaf of bread?

Her hand shuffled through the small little pouch that dangled from her waistband. Makeshift, like much about her, a patch of leather loosely tied together with twill, another small piece connecting it to her belt. Its pitiful form told enough the story; deflated like that of a balloon on its last gasp of air; its contents nonexistent as she plunged her fingers in, emptiness until she reached the bottom recesses. The crushing feeling of futility spread through her as she scooped all that remained, exposing the contents to eyes that still held within them a single sliver of hope.

“Would…” Her voice hollow, expecting only disappointment but hoping perhaps for some reprieve, “would you take four Jewels?”

Just take.

A moment of silence, even just a passing second, felt like an eternity. For a moment, maybe there was a chance? The scowl on the man’s face enough told the story, but if there were any doubt, his words eliminated what remained. “Is six! Cheap ‘nough that ya damn whatevs you is people comin’ through Her Beautiful Hargeon, now tryin’ to haggle for alreadys fair price.” Eyes that otherwise had been occupied elsewhere by those within the bakery now shifted and turned towards the baker and Vyra, the young girl appearing all the smaller compared to the large, flour-covered brute. “Gets ya self outs me bakery!”

Back turned to Vyra, that was the end of it. To the baker, she was a nobody, not worth entertaining. To the patrons of the bakery, she was perhaps no better than what his perception of her cast. Why would one come to deviate in thinking? For that matter, why pay her any more attention than what was already given?

We’re better than to deal with this.

She sighed with defeat, her eyes looking to the ground, a sense of shame running through her. Hargeon had hardly been kind to her; this was neither the first, nor would she suspect the last time. Even something as pitiful as a half-loaf of bread, in a bakery bristling with cakes and treats that Vyra only could hope to dream of, it just further illustrated what she was in this world. Nothing.

But we can be more. So much more…

A step forward was all that came about. The sounds echoed through; the same people whom gave nothing more than a cursory glance of disdain, the baker whose prejudice carries as much focus as his business, the bustle of the people whom meandered the streets of Hargeon – a hundred conversations echoing and meshing together into one cacophony of sounds.

Her eyes lifted, once to the half-loaf of bread; the prize denied her.

He'll never know...

*Thunk*

It seemed to happen at once. Those who heard it, only then they did they turn to see it. The wooden table uprooted and knocked over; pastries and assorted fruit pies descending onto the ground, frosting smearing against the wooden planks, bits of fruit scattered about, the combination of their juices and sugar spreading about, slipping through the cracks of the floorboards. Just beyond the corner of one’s eye, the ragged clothing of the girl demeaned by the baker, making a hasty disappearance from eyesight.

The baker, taking in what just happened, his eyes showing only that of bewilderment and anger as his treasured desserts produced a small hint of fruit and sugar within the air, a welcome scent to the bakery’s patrons, albeit of less-than-ideal circumstances. Fuming, his vision darted only for the briefest of moments before he realized just what was out of place, beyond the table highlighting the fresh pies or the vagrant girl he had thrown out.

“That bitch!” he roared in anger as he rushed out of the store, following in the same route that Vyra had ventured only a moment before. As though standing a full head above the crowds, only a few glances provided him with the prowess like that of a tiger stalking its prey. “Stop!” He bellowed out, his words resonating throughout the street, but Vyra seeming to hear it clear as day. Whatever grace was with her before was washed away, stumbling over her feet, getting herself up from the ground with the elegance of a child learning how to walk, her face only briefly turning to match eyes with the baker, terror upon her face.

Moving as she could through the alleyway like a mouse stalked by a cat, Vyra struggled to maintain any sort of distance from that of the baker, who pushed through the crowds with the ease of maneuvering through a low tide. However far she felt that she had run, the space between them only further disappearing with each step taken. Vyra did not know where she was going, where she sought to go, or truthfully anything beyond just the base instinct to keep moving forward.

A rough force gripping her from the side and nearly throwing her into the nearby cobble wall, her feet being completely lifted from the ground, stopped her entirely. With a harsh thud, her back smashed against the wall, the wind rushing out of her as she slumped down in pain. A rough hand gripped upon the collar of her shirt, the force throwing back the flimsy hood she had been wearing, the red goat horns prominently on display in contrast to that of the light blue hair beneath, picking up dust and ash from the ground below.

“So, you’s not only a thief, but a freak now huh?” The baker hissed, standing at his full height, seemingly towering infinitely over Vyra, a look of terror upon her face, the beginning of tears forming within her eyes. “No good comin’ from people like you. Prolly’ one of them sorcerer types too. Bloody freaks threaten’ everythin’ of our way of life.”

Vermin.

“I didn’t take anything! I swear!” Vyra pleaded, her words drowned by the sobs that had begun to form. She didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know why this was happening. It made no sense, going from the dejection in the store to this. She didn’t know what she had done to deserve this, but just wanted to go. “Please, I swear…”

He lowered himself just enough to put himself somewhat within Vyra’s size, but still having a towering presence over her. “I was gone give ya a chance. Maybe just get back me bread and let ya go easy,” he rose his hand, bringing it down and delivering a vicious slap upon Vyra’s face, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing in the immediacy, “But that ain’ts nothin’ deserved of ya kind…”

The stinging pain still radiated through her face, the tears down fully descending down upon her cheeks. Vyra shut her eyes, panicked of what stood to come next.

You’re dead.

The burning upon her cheek faded slightly, the briefest of reprieves before what was to follow. Her mind raced, fearful of what was to come next. A knee to the face? A punch against her jaw? A kick to her rib? She had already come to know of the cruelties of what the people of Fiore could afford her. To think this would be much a different scenario, foolhardy.

Let me in.

Blackness. For the shortest of moments, there stood nothing. No sound, no feeling, nothing at all. What seemed only a moment sooner, she was fearful of, or perhaps more expectant of what could have only been considered another act of cruelty. Then, blank? Her mind racing, she knew not what to expect, so to feel the soft touch of what she could imagine a hand upon her shoulder. It was unfamiliar, not unwelcome, but even something as benign as that, Vyra’s eyes shot open, her head darting up towards the woman who now appear beside her.

We were fine. She wasn’t needed.

Through teary eyes, Vyra mustered the faintest of nods. She hurt. Not just the physical pain that had subsided, nor even her back which still ached from the force that the man had pushed her, but from the hard days onto weeks onto months onto years that she had had to endure. What felt like a prolonged period of suffering; her plight was not for this woman to know. She feigned a weak smile, just enough to perhaps hide the agony she felt, one that wiped from her face at the sight of the man who had assaulted her, the shaken nature of his something which she could only to the woman before her.

“I didn’t…” The words trailed off as she realized the futility of saying anything more. This man had become convinced that she were at fault, per why she just did not understand. She did nothing wrong. She paced her breathing, a small rush of pain coming with each breath taken. Vyra simply watched what remained of the exchange between this woman and the man, the tears having stopped falling, her appreciation turning to that of admiration. Nobody had come to view her to this point as someone worth protecting.

A small exchange. A parcel that simply appeared being offered to the man, Vyra didn’t understand. This man had attacked her, blamed her for something that she didn’t do, and he was being paid for it? She had no way to know just how much was there, but her imagination could only race as to what amount was within the bag. Quite a bit, if the satisfied grunts of the man were to be any indicator.

That should be mine.

Blackness overcame again and as quickly as it came, receded. As though looking through a haze, she turned towards the woman, a warm smile upon her face; a striking, but welcome contrast than that of the tone this woman had spit towards the man. Vyra sought to feel safe now, but something about the whole sequence that had just occurred, it left her still a bit reserved.

Perhaps it was this woman herself. Everything about her struck as a contrast to that of Vyra; where she was poor and insignificant, this woman clearly was held to a much greater standard, not only in respect, but wealth too. And compared to Vyra, afraid, dirt and grime evident on everything about her, this woman resonated with confidence and beauty. The two were nothing alike, and yet she was willing to help her.

As the woman spoke towards her, to hear the contrast between her tone towards the baker and how she was spoken to, the beginnings of a smile dawned upon her lips. It stopped at the mention of the bread, the one element that even now she could not understand, but before she found the courage to muster any protest to the claim, the offer of what the woman described as a ‘proper meal’ floored her. Her stomach growled with anticipation, how scarce of an event this was that she found herself struggling to even remember such an invitation. Had she ever been offered one? Perhaps once or twice following ‘that’ incident, but none since, nor perhaps any before either.

“Really!?” the words were faint, a disbelief still apparent within her voice. A slight sting ran through her back as she started for her feet, the certainty that she was going to be hurting for days to come sitting in the back of her mind. Leaning slightly against the wall, the contrast between the two became even more apparent. The woman towered over her, an embodiment of nobility to Vyra’s peasantry. “Thank you! Thank you so-“

Her words cut off as she caught a quick glance to the ground where she had been laying only a moment earlier, instant horror flashing before her.

On the ground lay a crushed, partial-loaf of bread, less than that of what she supposedly had stolen, small bits scattered across the pieces of pavement, a damp coloring indicating where runoff water had been soaked up within it.

Vyra didn’t understand. She didn’t steal that! How it came to be there, it made no sense. It just wasn’t possible! She turned and latched onto the woman, looking up to her eyes a mixture of hopelessness, pity, and something more, perhaps heartbreak. “I swear, I didn’t take that! Please,” she pleaded. In a matter of seconds, she felt her world collapse, to be arisen from the constant lows to something close to that of a person worth a damn, only for it to seemingly collapse right before her eyes. “I swear, I didn’t take it! Please, you have to believe me!”

She desperately hoped that this woman would believe her, but no matter her tears, how truthfully she believed to be telling the truth, not even Vyra knew for certain. All she knew was suddenly she was being chased by the man and then all of this. A growing despair began to build within her; why would Vyra possibly believe that this woman was going to have believed her?

Her grip loosened and she sank down onto the ground, landing on her knees, her vision adrift but lacking focus as whatever tears produced fell to the tiniest of puddles beside her. "But nobody ever does..." her words were weak, defeat all too evident in her voice.

You see? This world has no place for you. But it does for me...

The world often made little sense to Vyra.

Why had she been born with horns? What could she have done that was so terrible as to warrant this kind of existence? Was this why the world seemed so cruel to Vyra? Was it something that she had done that deemed her less than deserving of life? It often left her wondering, albeit with disappointment, as she drifted to sleep night upon night.

And in the same right, how is it that in a world that had done her no favors, that this woman whom Vyra had never come to either see or know of prior, had come forth like a guardian angel in the face of all of this. How ironic, if not discerning, that it would seemingly be a woman of prominence that shows Vyra any sort of humility before that of a society as a whole. Anyone whom in this woman’s situation, there would be little incentive to believe Vyra, nor even stick around so long as to even be faced with such a decision. They had saved her, protected her from harm. To most, that would have been sufficient enough.

“I believe you.” Her eyes widened as she felt a sensation rip through her, something that she had been without for so long that it felt alien to her. Safe? Belonging? Whatever it may have been, what seemed like a weight of the world was being lifted from her. However, fleeting it may have been, in that immediate moment Vyra felt accepted. She coughed; her words stuck in her throat, her mind split between asking to hear validation from this woman, the words still foreign to Vyra, or whether to thank her. She simply remained there, a feeling of wetness as run-off water trickled against the haggard leggings covering her legs.

She lies. Nobody believes you.

The outreached hand snapped Vyra back into reality, seeing the woman still towering over her, a warm smile upon her face. Still a bit apprehensive, she reached out and took the woman’s hand, her legs feeling week as blood rushed back into them. Leaning her other hand against the cobblestone wall once again, Vyra maintained her balance. She dreaded what this woman must have been thinking, for someone like her to be seen with someone as disheveled and a mess as Vyra was.

Alisa. She mouthed her savior’s name, a sort of comfort that came with being able to put a name to a face, especially a face that one would not wish to forget. She had been caught up in her own mind trying to ensure that she wouldn’t forget that it took a moment to realize she had yet to even provide this woman with her own name. “I’m Vyra,” her words were hoarse, something about being in the company of this woman as the streets began to fill with people still a bit unsettling to her. Though she would not say it, there was some level of awkwardness to providing someone with her name; seldom times was she ever referred to anything other than a derogatory term that she had just come to expect that nobody actually cared what her name was.

In the few minutes that time passed that the two traversed through Hargeon, the streets had become all the more busy. The last of the shops having finally opened for the public and the warm sun that shined upon the city, painting one of the last truly pleasant days of the season, it all contributed to an even busier day than that of what Vyra had herself even been used to whilst in Fiore. Unease settling in, she found herself grasping and holding tightly onto Alisa’s arm as they walked, similar to that of a child walking with a parent. Vyra had once already been victimized by these people; the last thing she sought was it happening again.

Pathetic. Groveling before this woman. Nothing special.

Beyond that, this was territory wholly new to Vyra. Most of the time that Vyra had spent within cities, either fatigue or hunger had limited her to such a degree that finding someplace to rest her head, or hopefully maybe find something to eat would have been the most that was afforded to her. And even then, if she were fortunate enough to perhaps find even that, it would often mean that much of whatever given city she was in would be overlooked or even just ignored. Walking with Alisa, she recognized that much of what she was seeing, she likely never would have encountered on her own. Though with or without Alisa's accompaniment in discovering them, the reality was that Vyra likely would never be able to indulge in such delights if she were so inclined regardless.

They walked on for a bit of time before the taller woman finally led them somewhere, a confident look upon her face, as though basking in the satisfaction of a successful venture. Vyra, as much overwhelmed by everything going on as she was leery of others, found herself at a loss for words when she saw just where the woman had chosen. It was not a negative reflection upon the place, but rather that of herself. “Are, are you sure?” She glanced as well as she could inside the establishment, the place was practically full from the limited view that she could tell of it. Vyra frowned, “I don’t think I’m… their kind of people…” She wasn’t sure if it were her horns or just how she looked otherwise, but Vyra hardly felt like this would be a place that would allow, let alone welcome, someone like her in their establishment. That feeling only made Vyra feel more guilty for Alisa, forcing her to have to further be in her company, however poorly tarnishing what standing she may have in this city.

What you’re thinking is right. You are worthless. She should leave you. She will leave you. But not me. I’ll still be here. I’lll protect you. Just like always.

The euphoric blending blossomed through and through, nothing more a simple preview, a teasing finger with no purpose than to otherwise lead patrons towards the delicacies littered throughout the café. It was striking how such a scent, an amalgamation of flavors blended together could contrast so significantly against the scents soaked within the Hargeon streets. Stale sea water, grime, and the hint of wet stone clashed against the immovable object that was warm-brewed coffee, freshly-kneaded bread, and the unmistakable smell of the highest quality cheeses, slowly melting upon dishes to leave mouths watering.

It was almost too much.

Vyra accompanied Alisa into the café, patrons seated at tables all along the edges of the establishment turning their heads slightly, faint nods indicate of respect and admiration coming from most whom happen to achieve eye contact with the tall beauty. If any acknowledgement they gave Vyra, it was either brief enough or innocuous enough that she did not notice it. Her gaze were locked in onto Alisa, each passing moment impressing Vyra further and further. Whatever she had first thought of Alisa, it was becoming clear that not enough credit was being given.

As they reached the counter, Vyra’s eyes bounced around, for the first time truly digesting what the café had to offer. Croissants, steam still stemming from it, indicative of its freshness. Small jars lined the sides of the counter, candied sticks soaking in sugary fruit molasses sitting within them. Behind the counter on the wall, dried meats, salted and tenderized, hung like trophies for the most adventurous consumers. For the girl who seldom had a chance to dine on anything like this, it was admittedly overwhelming.

“Well, wouldn’t I be lying I didn’t recognize that look,” an inviting, yet jolly hollering came from the larger man who approached the two of them. A smile beamed, as he took a quick glance at Vyra, then towards the couple items that she had glanced at only moments earlier. “I know, I know, sometimes things all look so good, it’s hard to make up your mind.” Without missing a beat, he had pulled out a small basket from beneath the counter and had begun to place a couple croissants, a handful of the candied sticks, and cut off a hearty piece of the dried meats all within the basket. “Which is why I feel you should be able to try everything at least once.” Putting the basket before Vyra, he shined her another full smile, his head nodding slightly as his eyes briefly shifted to Alisa.

Vyra’s eyes widen with surprise, if not disbelief. In that moment, she found herself struggling to hold back tears; she couldn’t remember the last time she had received something like this before. Probably never. “You love to see it,” the man remarked. “Let me go ahead and prepare you something nice. I know Alisa would only expect the very best. I can’t imagine how she’d feel if I didn’t extend that to a new friend as well,” he gestured towards a pair of seats just at the counter. “Make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back shortly.” The man turned towards the back, but not before calling out once more to the pair, “Alisa, care for the usual?”

Vyra glanced briefly down the counter, watching as the café owner disappeared into the back. Looking back to Alisa for just a moment, Vyra moved towards one of the seats that she had been gestured towards, taking the one closest to Alisa. She exhaled. It felt like for the first time that she could breath. There just something indescribable about what had transpired up to this point that left her drained. Perhaps it was the incident with the baker. Maybe her encountering Alisa and the windfall of that encounter left her overwhelmed. Whatever the reason, taking a seat finally allowed her a freedom that she wasn’t permitted earlier.

A bit leery about the whole thing, she reached into the basket and took a bite of some of the dried meat, the taste overwhelming. She savored every moment of the bite, her eyes closed with delight, but as she opened them and looked upon the piece of meat, plenty of bites left to be taken, she paused. “You know the owner. The guy in the alley,” she shuddered, “He knew you. Everyone in the street, all the people here, everyone knows you. I saw it. They all revere you.”

Finally. You’re starting to get it.

Vyra turned towards Alisa, not tears in her eyes, but rather just that of hurt. Of feelings long suppressed and only now starting to come to the surface, perhaps now in the company of someone to whom makes her feel safe. “You’re someone special. You matter.” She choked a bit on her words, a pain evident on her face with what she was saying, “I just don't get it. Why me? I’m not like you. I don’t matter.”

She sighed, “I’ve never mattered to anyone...”

That’s right. You don’t. But I do. And the sooner we accept that, the better it will be for us.

Vyra had not been a stranger to the unknown. So often things happened, offering her multiple doors to venture through, what lies beyond any given route being something that could as much as much lead her further toward self-destruction as it stood the chance to simply prolong what was to come. It seldom made things better, and unfortunately it seldom made it less frightening.

Here, with Alisa, was one of the few times that she was comfortable with that uncertainty.

Her heart had been drowning in the sorrowful reality that she had been living with, her existence as fleeting as a leaf upon the hard ground. It could as much remain there or disappear forever, and the world would simply go on. A second thought wouldn’t be given by most if something were to have happen to her; evident enough by the countless days of her surviving, if it could be described as much.

But this, this was new. Like a hand outstretched pulling her out from descending further below.

Alisa’s words, the story she told just seemed too hard to believe based on what Vyra had seen. In her, Vyra saw a woman that commanded respect, who was beloved. Sure, she could recall the plentiful stories that she heard, tales of people having discovered their fortunes, the outlook of their lives having completely shifted to that of prosperity. But how many were just those of people drunkenly expressing their dreams, remembering of times long gone, or perhaps just Vyra wanting to hear what she thought she heard? But had Alisa been like her once? Was she, or rather, had she been just like her?

“Really?” Vyra said little more than that, simply focusing on Alisa as she digested each word spoken. How Alisa explained it, was that really how people were? Had Vyra just been unlucky?  As intently and earnestly as she wished to believe Alisa, to believe that there was good in people, everything up until this encounter between the two had led convinced her otherwise.

LIAR!

Feeling the woman’s hand delicate yet strong grip upon her hand, Vyra felt a rush, a sense of worth flying into her. Her eyes lingered for a moment upon the woman’s hand then rose up to meet Alisa’s, a timid smile that complimented the emotionally charged eyes of Vyra.

Then from her eyes the color drained. Her grip waned.

Enough! You’ve had too long with this!

The color returned to Vyra’s eyes; their gaze fixated upon Alisa. As if upon hot coals, Vyra jerked her hand away, a hint of disgust in every motion made. “Disgusting…” Her tone was nothing like before. The timidness was gone. Replaced with a confidence that from Vyra had yet to be heard. “So what, you every so often come off from whatever throne you sit on to help the poor down trotted? Make you feel better about yourself? Nice way to give yourself a little pat on the back?”

Her eyes examined the café, taking in seemingly every detail, but her eyes never shifting from Alisa when given the chance. “You can talk as much as you want about being like me, but I see through you.” She scoffed, “she may not, but it won’t matter.”

“Cause you’re just gonna reaffirm everything I’ve lived with. What, you going to protect her? I was fine. That oaf with the temper, there wouldn’t been any problem if she had just... if she had just let me take the lead a few seconds more.” Frustration was fully evident upon Vyra’s face, it blending in with general contempt. “Well, she paid for that mistake. But it’s OK. I’m stronger than to let something like that stop me.”

During this dialogue, the jolly fellow whom had provided the bag of treats for Vyra returned with a tray containing all sorts of delicacies. Although not one to typically make their presence invisible, under the circumstances, of what he could deduce from the very short interaction with Vyra, best to allow her and Alisa a more than typical level of privacy. Placing the large tray before them, he said but a few words before tending to some of the other patrons in the café.

“And I don’t need you. Whatever you think of her, she doesn’t need you. She’s alive because of me. But you think you can do better? You think that you can just buy her? Buy me!? That you can just get rid of me by buying her breakfast!?” Grabbing ahold of one of the croissants from the tray, she dismissingly threw it against Alisa, it bouncing off of her and landing onto the floor nearby. Vyra leaned in slightly closer now, her eyes once again fixated on Alisa, “You think I’m going to give this up, you’re wasting your time. She’s lost. And the sooner she accepts that, the sooner I can save her.”

She leaned back, resting one elbow upon the table as she licked her finger, the faint beginnings of a coy smile developing as she admired the tastes of the croissant. With a quick glance at her finger, then back to Alisa, she spoke softly, venom in her words. “So how about you stop prolonging this little show of yours?”

Vyra’s eyes dilated and then returned, the harsh iris that held just hate moments earlier having dispersed into the same eyes that looked upon Alisa with trust. She sat in the chair for a moment, everything about her slow to respond for a moment. A couple of quick blinks seemed to bring everything back to focus and from the corner of her eye she could see the tray that was left for them, minus one croissant that still remain at their feet.

“Woah... Those look incredible,” she spoke with enthrallment, the look of everything all being so much more than what she had imagined it being. She took hold of one of the remaining croissants and smiled as the aroma of the fresh bread filled her nostrils. “Wait, did this just get here? How’d I not-?” Her words cut off. She knew she’d have noticed the tray being left. How couldn’t she? And wasn’t Alisa holding her hand just a moment ago? Unnerved, she lifted her eyes to meet Alisa’s, the fear plainly evident within them, “Alisa?”

It felt awful, to be fearful at a time when she have felt the most secure and safe. In Alisa, someone who had demonstrated what people would likely consider to be the standard of kindness, she had provided Vyra with a sense of value, a glimpse, even if just a fleeting moment, of what a normal life could be like. But just then, however much time passed, she could feel that moment slip away, lost to the same nothingness that she herself had seemingly slipped to.

And while feeling Alisa’s hand upon her own again did bring her some level of reassurance, that feeling of being safe, Vyra could not take close to as much confidence in it now as before. But her breathing steadied, panic having previously thrown her body’s rhythmed off, calmed by the combination of Alisa’s words and the enticing smells of the large meal before them. Vyra had to admit, for as unsettled as she may have been, it was hard not to be excited for what the café owner had put before them. Especially for someone as hungry as Vyra had been.

She looked down at the croissant still in her hand, the smell dancing just beneath her nostrils, her mind racing as she tried to imagine the taste of something like it. Her eyes darted back and forth between it and Alisa, a part of her wondering if she had permission to eat. Even though the man had presented the food for both of them, Vyra still felt uncomfortable simply eating right away. After a couple more glances, paying particular note to the kind smile upon Alisa’s face, Vyra closed her eyes and took a bite.

It was hard to tell whether it were the texture or the taste that first struck her, but with just a single bite Vyra had pulled the croissant away and found herself marveling at the pastry whilst she chewed. “Woah… I never had one of these before, it’s like, soft bread but tastes like a cookie. A weird-shaped bread cookie.” She glowed, after the first bite having lost the timidness that she had earlier. Bite upon bite, the croissant more and more disappeared, her hands becoming faintly layered in flakes and crumbs, but the smile didn’t wane from her face.

Although she were tempted, Vyra resisted the urge to take another. Alisa had made a point of saying that they were good before they walked in. It would be wrong to take another before she even had one. Besides, there were enough things still in the small basket that the man had given to her. Reaching in, her eyes shined when she gazed upon one of the candied treats, a small wooden straw that had been soaked in a sugary coating, allowed to harden and then again dipped, the process having been repeated a few times over to give it a surprisingly thick casing of candy.

When Alisa asked about Vyra’s encounter with the baker, she couldn’t help but frown at having to recall what happened. She would have preferred to not speak of it, but under the circumstances, she owed Alisa at least that much for what she had done. Placing the candied treat onto the large plate before them, Vyra turned her head just slightly towards Alisa.

“I still don’t get it. I mean I wanted to buy it. I hadn’t had bread for a while and I don’t know, I thought it would have been nice. Half a loaf? If I could have gotten something, I don’t know what, but something to with it, probably the nicest thing I’d have in a while,” she felt shameful admitting that. It was easy to get lost in the meal before her, to forget that in spite of the company she was with, under nearly every other circumstance she’d be viewed as one of the lowest within the city.

“I wanted to buy it, but… I couldn’t afford it. I thought he would be willing to sell it for 4 Jewels, I hoped,” She pulled out the small little pouch that she had carried with her, a rough piece of leather that had been loosely tied together with a string into a makeshift pouch. She emptied it onto the counter, three Jewels emptying out and falling onto the ground, each one still having bits of dirt and grime from wherever Vyra had scooped them from the ground. She sighed, seeing the jewels, “I didn’t even have enough for that…”

Her eyes lingered on the jewels for a moment. Everything around her, from the croissants to the candies, to the dried meats, to whatever it was that Alisa was drinking, there was little doubt in her mind that Vyra would never be able to afford any of it. If there were anything that more grossly signified the contrast in standings between Vyra and Alisa, it were the three coins that now sat upon the counter. After a few seconds, she composed herself, putting the coins back into the pouch and stowing it back away. “But uh, yeah I asked if he would accept 4 Jewels, and he told me to leave. The next thing I know, he’s yelling and chasing me in the streets.”

Reaching for the candied treat, she frowned slightly at the toy being stuck to the plate. It took a moment for her to pull it off the plate, but once it was free, she gave it a few licks, the sweetness of it helping to calm her down slightly, if nothing else than to distract her from having to dwell more on what happened earlier. “But I don’t know why. I don’t remember doing anything.” She sighed, “Feels like that happens a lot now, I just lose time. And I don’t know why…”

Another lick from the treat. But this time no relief came from it.

“It scares me.”

There were no shortage of things to leave Vyra amazed. “Really?” Her words cracked, it as much seeming that her words were as much processing what was heard as she was, “We can take it? Like with us?” It was something that was so standard and yet, so foreign to her. Rarely ever did Vyra find herself within environments with people with as much access to food as what was presented before her and Alisa right now – and never her being such the recipient to it – and none of those times did the prospect of taking food with them ever come about. “I didn’t know you could do that…”

Vyra, for as innocent and naïve as she may have been, she was not completely the fool. The ignorance she displayed to the world, enough times had she come to experience backlash from it in one manner or another, often times simply in the form of ridicule or otherwise demeaning responses, though sometimes in the physical form. But in Alisa’s company, it marked one of the only times that she felt safe enough to lower that guard. She knew seldom of the world, and today had opened her eyes to more things than she had ever realized.

Her eyes trained onto the glass of orange liquid, soft waves splashing against the clear container. “May… May I try some of that?” The food left before them was one thing, and there were plenty enough of it that there was little reason to think they would have to compete for any of it. The drinks were much less fruitful, and as such, presented an interesting conundrum.

“Oh ho, a thousand pardons. Foolish me forgetting to bring a glass for ya! Just a moment!” The bellowing of the kind café owner boomed as he appeared both in audible and visible focus, a smile upon his face as he presented out a glass for Vyra, going as far as to pour her a glass of the same orange juice that Alisa had been enjoying, nearly filling the glass to the rim in the process. He gave the plate a quick glance over, surveying what was eaten and what remained, “Ho ho, seems I underestimated how much a girl like you could eat. I do you a disservice only leaving out what I did.”

He maintained a kind smile towards Vyra, his eyes darting every so often to Alisa as though to recognize – or at the least, from a very superficial point of view – the plight that Vyra had faced. “If you’d would like, Alisa, I can have one of my boys pack this and some other stuff from the back and have it sent. Too nice of a day to be lugging around all this,” he remarked, holding his hand over his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight that managed to pierce into the café, illuminating it fully.

Vyra admittedly not been paying much attention during this, nor gave any heed to how Alisa may have responded, if at all. This marked her first-time having orange juice in this manner. She had oranges before; as an import it was one of the things often brought forth via the ports of Fiore and mishandling of shipped goods often meant that a piece of fruit or two could be made available to those fortunate enough. And so the taste was not wholly new, but having the full experience rather than a robust sample was still rewarding in itself.

She probably would have gone on to miss Alisa’s offer as well, had it not been for one of the café workers beginning to place some of the items on the large tray into a container similar to that of the basket that Vyra had been given, albeit one that was larger and already full of some other items that had not been on the tray initially. Cheeses, some other dried meats, a few various other goods. It did admittedly intrigue her, just what else there may have been to try. Not even from the broader spectrum that was the rest of the world that she had yet to explore and the innumerable points of intrigue and wonder that awaited, but simply just from the narrowed perspective that existed within this café. “A walk? OK! Sure!”

Admittedly, Vyra was a bit more interested in eating still; it had been far too long since she could remember that she last had a real meal, but this went beyond what she wanted at this point. Alisa had gone out of her way to be kind to Vyra, and it was only fair that she try as well to possibly return the favor. And though she could not say for certain, the way Alisa proposed such an idea, this seemed like something she wanted. Following Alisa’s lead, Vyra began her way out of the café, although she made a point before stepping away to reach into her small pouch, pull out the three Jewels that she had lamented over earlier, and place them within the small jar atop the counter, the word “Tips” written onto the side of it. “Thank you! They were really good!” she said with joy as she flashed a smile towards the café owner, Vyra’s actions leaving him unable to do anything more than simply return a large smile of his own.

If there were one thing that sold Vyra more than anything as to Alisa’s suggestion for a walk, it was the last remark that she made. Best places to avoid the big crowds, for someone like Vyra, there were few things more enticing than that. The crowds, or rather just the people, had hardly shown her any sort of civility or respect up to this point, and while Vyra saw a modicum of respect while in the company of Alisa, it was impossible not to wonder how much of that was only attributed to the woman’s presence. Perhaps as well, how much different would it be without others around, judgmental eyes that had long since viewed her as less than human, would it stand to allow her to be more open? Alisa perhaps? Had whatever expectations people had of her forcing her to hide her true self from Vyra? She shuddered at the idea that the woman before her had been deceiving her, ridiculous as it was.

She was excited though. Vyra did not know much of what Hargeon had to offer, neither from a point of experience or otherwise being in a position to do so. But Alisa clearly had an understanding of Hargeon; she had been spot-on with her assessment of the café and while she may have had reservations at first upon entering there, those had been quickly dispelled. There was no reason to think that after that that Alisa would lead her astray. After all, people wouldn’t do that. Some may be cruel, but they aren’t monsters.

With a hand extended to her, Vyra wasted no time in taking hold of it, following along with Alisa as they traversed through the alleyways and other backroads that extended throughout Hargeon. Each one largely resembled the previous one and the next one that followed, someone unfamiliar with the city like Vyra almost certain to be lost within it. That Alisa was capable of maneuvering her way through it as much spoke to not just her familiarity with the city, but also to what she said earlier, of people seldom taking these routes themselves. With each corner turned, the amount of people that the two of them came across dwindled more and more, perhaps the only exception being when the route brought them briefly back within the main streets.

Vyra kept herself loosely invested in where it was that they were going, but there was a clear futility in that endeavor. Having no awareness or familiarity with Hargeon in the first place, it was a lofty, if not unreasonable thing to assume that under any circumstances that she would recall the route that they were taking. If even just asked to retrace their steps to the café from where they were standing, no doubt Vyra would find herself hopelessly lost. After a certain point, she abandoned the effort to recall the slightly variances in the walls and instead put her attention towards something else, the question that Alisa had prompted, a question that Vyra as much wondered to. Why had she come here?

“I mean, nothing really brought me here I suppose,” it felt like a non-answer, but it was the only thing she could honestly say. The nomadic-like lifestyle had routinely see her going from one area to another, not only from within Fiore, but also within Minstrel. With each locale, there came with it the brief sense of wonder, the hope and expectation of fortunes changing, and the disappointment of nothing coming to realization as she hoped. Hargeon had simply been the latest stop upon her fruitless venture. “I guess, I don’t know, you come to wish that you end up somewhere that you can call home. Stupid, I guess.” She bit the inside of her lip; despite the answer she gave, home was not something that she had knew. “And no, nobody here to meet.”

A moment of silence passed as they continue through when she spoke softly, a continuation of her previous thought, the shame of what she was saying evident, “I don’t have any friends.”

The air filled with an all-too familiar scent, one that anyone whom had spent any reasonable amount of time in Hargeon would be aware of. It was one that Vyra also was all too used to, and in a rare instance was actually pleased to pick up on. Sea water, salt, fish, all the trimmings that one would typically come to find upon the docks. As Alisa led her through the port, it marked perhaps the first time since they had met that Vyra had asserted any sort of dominance, keeping hold of Alisa’s hand as she made her way towards a fenced ledge, providing all those who may be walking by with a full vantage of the Hargeon docks, the ships, dockworkers, and all the moving parts that defined the pseudo-economy fully on display.

For a moment, Vyra said nothing, simply just watching everything below. She wasn’t sure just how long it had been that she was in Hargeon, but that this was the first time since she had arrived that she had stumbled upon this area, her mind could not help but wonder how much more bearable things stood to have been. But that train of thought led her to wonder what would have happened if things were different. She had found a friend; as terrible as the circumstances leading up to it had been, she still came out of it alive and not quite as alone.

A slight pull on her arm brought Vyra back into focus as her head turned towards Alisa, a look of patience upon her face. Smiling, she returned back to accompanying the tall woman, happy that she allowed Vyra even that brief of a moment to look at the docks before them. She couldn’t quite describe it, but to some degree, it helped her feel whole. It could have just been escapism, an opportunity for her mind to wander, but whyever it was, Vyra was still appreciative nonetheless. Having allowed her that, she was all the more inclined to trust where Alisa might have further taken her.

“The beach? Hmm,” her mind struggled to remember when it had been since she had gone to a beach. At some point she certainly had; the concept of it, the image was in her head of what they were, but the memory itself of her having been there seemed blank. Doubtful that she had been to any beaches while in Fiore, she struggled to remember her life back in Minstrel, if there had been any time that she had gone to the beach after having left home. “I don’t think I have,” she resigned, a bit confused. Had she never gone to the beach or simply imagined it from stories that she had heard before?

Alisa continued to lead her along, the route having the same sort of mystique that came with their route from the café, the lack of people giving it the feeling like that of an adventure; the two of them going through unearthed lands towards treasures that were known only to them. But unlike before, the sites that the two ventured past, a brief first-glimpse at the beautiful Hargeon beach, the sun reflecting off of the clear water, the imposing lighthouse which overlooked everything, like a great protector that oversaw the seas before them, the collection of sites presented a beauty that Vyra didn’t know could exist so close to the uglier parts of the city that she had been resigned to for so long.

As Alisa’s tour came towards its close, Vyra gazed out onto the scene before her. Not a soul upon the sands, nobody in the area at all save for Vyra, Alisa, and whatever few instances of wildlife there may have been nearby; a passing seagull, the occasional crustacean that came upon shore with the tides, otherwise vacant. She looked out, speechless of the beauty before her. Perhaps it was her being caught in the moment or perhaps reveling in what was essentially her first time gazing upon this, but regardless of why, she looked on, marveling at it all.

Vyra took several steps forward, her footing thrown off as the sand beneath her conformed to her every step. Taken by surprise initially, she quickly gathered her bearings and ventured out further and further onto the beach, her progress only slowed by the change from soft to wet sand. A couple more steps and she was stopped fully by the approaching tide, the suddenness of the cold sea water rushing atop her feet, drenching her feet and worn-down boots alike. “Ooh that’s cold,” she exclaimed with a slight laugh as the sequence of events was drawn to a conclusion with Vyra losing her balance entirely, landing on her behind as the tide receded, the cold wetness running down her lower backside.

Though cold, Vyra didn’t immediately get up. For a moment she lay there, a smile on her face while she sat there in the sand, simply watching the world before her, the sky without a cloud in eyesight, the sun taking full advantage and shining down upon the clear sea below, the sounds of the waves rippling back and forth, never in her wildest dreams could she have believed that something so beautiful was so close in a world that had only shown her ugliness.

She remain there for a short bit, the tide eventually returning again, the cold water only further drenching clothing already stained wet by the sea. In that moment, it didn’t seem to much phase Vyra as she remained there, simply looking on before she attempted to get back to Alisa. But a wave heavier than what had come onto shore was able to sweep her off feet forward, drenching her front and leaving only part of her head and hair dry.

As if rocked by a forceful strike, Vyra did not immediately stand, instead getting to her knees, brushing off some of the sand that now stained her clothes. After a few pats, she looked out again towards the sea, the image painted being one of absolute beauty. Even under these circumstances, her body drenched by the sea, it captivated her. She looked out in silence.

Then she cried out hysterically.

“IT’S NOT FAIR!!”

Her tears vanished as they descended down her cheek, either absorbed by the sand beneath her or otherwise washed away with the comings and goings of the tide. All that were left were the remains upon her cheeks and the redness surrounding her eyes. That is, ignoring the new tears that with consistency replaced those previously cried out. And at no point did the cycle appear that it would stop.

Her tears were that of a lifetime’s worth of pain.

A pain Vyra had kept private, only growing with each passing day.

Another rough tide swept forth, the cold water briefly rushing across her chest as it extended outwards, at this point the cold water little more than a nonfactor than that of the unexpected entity that it had been earlier, during drastically more enjoyable times. However the water may have felt, it paled to that of what bellowed out of Vyra. Even the hand that gently gripped her arm was barely registered, Vyra only acknowledging any presence through the combination of Alisa’s touch and her words, turning to face the taller woman. Yet even within the kind words that Alisa offered, it did little to quell her pain.

She recoiled back, as if having touched a lit flame.

“Until when!? You’ll go, you’ll live your life! Just like everyone else! You all will keep going and what am I going to do!?” In a moment of anger, she slammed at the water, feeling more of the stinging sensation upon her skin than that of water, save for the bit that splashed upon her otherwise dry face, tears aside. “I go back to that…” She cast out a blank gaze in a direction that she could only assume to be towards Hargeon; a benign comfort of where they were, being far enough away to feel like one were no longer there, to the delight of some like Vyra. “Back to being alone, to being treated like garbage, to men taking-“ she cut herself off. A feeling of disgust overwhelming her as she shut her eyes and shook her head, trying to dispel her thoughts.

When she next open her eyes, a part of her hoped that something would have that things were different. Somehow, how did not matter, only that it would. But as she opened them, it did not lessen her heart just further sinking. She looked at Alisa, despair in her eyes and the sound of great pain intertwining with defeat within her voice, “I did nothing to deserve this life! They shun me, insult me, beat me, worse,” she pointed in the direction of Hargeon, before quickly motioning instead towards the beach around them, “and they get to enjoy this!?”

“But what about me!? What do I get!? Tell me… Please….”

She agonized internally. Alisa had done nothing to warrant this; she were the last person that ever deserved Vyra’s condemnation if anything. And yet here she was, the only person present for the floodgates of Vyra’s pain; a lifetime’s worth of suffering to the cruelty and bigotry of society being released for what felt like the first time. It left her so terribly conflicted, on one hand cathartic, on the other, hurt.

Her tears waned as what strength Vyra had released from her. She was drained, exhausted as emotion had overtaken the drive to survive. She steadied herself and stepped forward, but another rough tide proved more than what her body was ready for. Whether by her own will or perhaps by Alisa’s doing, Vyra managed to find herself against Alisa, holding her with a weak hug, whether more reliant on her for support due to a lack of strength or a need for some level of affection, of human worth, were unclear.

For a moment, she said nothing, simply crying what tears she had left. Then silence set in for a moment as her breathing calmed. When she did speak, her voice was rasp, hoarse. “I don't understand. Why does everyone hate me? Why? What did I do wrong?”

Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe she was exactly what I needed. Just a little bit more.

The wind blew across her back without intensity, yet the feeling seemed more like that of ice than a cool breeze. The contrast of what she was feeling compared against the scenery before them, the clear skies, bright sun, and the clear water beneath them now having begun to warm with their prolonged exposure to it, it only made the wind’s occasional arrivals all the more striking.

And yet, she barely felt a second of the cold.

Pressed against Alisa, the taller woman holding her tightly within embrace, Vyra struggled to process anything other than the combination of the words which resonated from the woman’s mouth and the sureness to which Alisa held her, nullifying the impact of the heavy waves which pounded upon the two of them, capable on their own to throw Vyra completely off her feet. She had cried her eyes outs earlier, every injustice that she could remember, all the pain inflicted upon her, physically, emotionally, sexually, years’ worth of it just rushing out at once.

And all it took were four simple words to leave her wanting to cry again.

She said nothing; she couldn’t. As long as she could remember, before Hargeon, before Fiore, before even being on her own in Minstrel, she had grown up told that she had been at fault. If not through those direct words, then by the scorn and resentment shown. The feeling that her existence, her presence, everything about her were nothing more than a burden. To hear someone, for once, express otherwise, it floored her. If she had felt weak a moment ago, there were even less strength now, undoubtedly Alisa’s hold on the girl being the only reason for still standing upright.

With what strength she had, she gripped hold of Alisa, trying hard to reciprocate the same closeness that the taller woman had provided her. Beyond this, there was a sense of safeness to being close to her. To reveal her pain in the manner that she did, most would have conveyed something like that to those they trusted, those that they believed could understand. Vyra was never afforded that opportunity, never able to build any level of trust great enough to reveal how she felt, how she was and is feeling. Until now. With Alisa, there came the first time that that vulnerability, that willingness to open up actually seemed possible.

It still crushed her on the inside though to have to plague Alisa with that burden. The woman had done so much for her already, more than anyone ever had for Vyra in the past. When Alisa said that Hargeon was her home, even though she did not know entirely what she meant, Vyra could not help but become overwhelmed, her grip around Alisa tightening to what degree her remaining strength allowed her to, the tears that she had felt wanting to cry again finally came forth, trailing down her cheek, disappearing below.

“My… my mother…” Her words were weak, perhaps simply overwrought with emotion or just fatigue, it not quite clear which. “The last thing she ever said to me,” she swallowed, bringing forth an obviously painful memory that she had kept with her, “was that I would die without a home, without anyone. I started to believe it…” She lifted her head up towards Alisa, a pathetic look of admiration on her face as she flashed a weak smile, “I’m glad she was wrong…”

She winced as a large wave came up unexpectedly, Vyra enduring most of it. But she held on nonetheless, her eyes starting to feel heavy, and odd feeling running through her. She ignored the discomfort, focusing on Alisa and her words, feeling her tears running down her backside, but paying no heed towards them. Her words, for Vyra to hear them, it meant more than perhaps what anyone could have imagined them being. She mustered what strength she had and pushed upwards, bringing her face closer to Alisa’s, her lips closer to Alisa’s ears.

“Thank you for finding me. Thank you.”

She lowered herself back to her original height, leaning more of her weight against Alisa’s body, her ability to stand on her own all but gone with her exhaustion. She simply stood there for a time in Alisa’s embrace, holding her in what she could of her own. Nothing was said, the only sound really being that of the waves coming in and out, the larger waves that had once pounded against them seeming to dissipate.

After a short while, a voice broke the silence.

“Do you get it now? All she’s known, is suffering,” a tone perhaps familiar to Alisa, or at least, the contrast to that softness of how Vyra spoke being immediately noticeable. “You think an afternoon of kindness is suddenly going to save her? What’s saved her is me, before and after, because you will fail her. And when that happens, you’ll destroy her. So spare her that pain. We both know I’m the best thing for her, not you.” Venom spewed through the cold demeanor of the other Vyra, her words an odd mixture of cruel and nurturing with the slightest hint of weakness thrown in as well.

And then it was gone. The sound of quiet again occupying their vicinity.

“Alisa?” Vyra muttered, her words were faint, a shell of what there were before. Her grip around Alisa waned, whatever strength that had been within her fading away as her body slumped and began to descend down into the water. “I don’t, don’t feel…” Her words trailed much like how and as her body went limp, her eyes straining upwards and stealing a final glimpse of Alisa before what consciousness remaining slipped away.

She did not know what happened.

From the time they had reached the beach, Vyra could feel the strength fading away from her, like that of a candle burning itself out. Her emotional tirade lent no assistance to that, if anything only making things worse. Years-worth of pain, anguish, abuse, and loneliness came bellowing out of Vyra in what was ironically one of the safest points she could have found herself. Accompanied by the heavy waves that brutally pounded upon her and Alisa whilst seeking safety within the taller woman’s arms, with each second the weakness became more and more pronounced.

And then, blackness.

But not natural blackness, as she at this point would perhaps have preferred. No, it were like the other times before. She was just “gone”. No thoughts, no memories, no Vyra.

And then she was back, Alisa still holding onto her. She was gone, but this woman, who had shown Vyra more kindness and warmth than anyone ever before, was still there. She just didn’t know what to say at this point. Alisa had pulled her out from the seemingly infinite darkness that she had lived in. A simple thank you or anything of the like would never stand to be sufficient enough.

Whatever she had hoped to say to Alisa, she never got the opportunity. As she returned from the nothingness, the weakness in her body rushed through her. She was exhausted before, her body as much willing itself still upright than by its own capabilities. Just then though, the fatigue and weakness overwhelmed her. Even to stand was too much, even the idea of consciousness too much for her to endure.

The last thing she remembered was trying to reach out to Alisa, or at least, within her mind, the thought of her extending out her arm to reach Alisa. But as she drifted out of consciousness, it became less clear if that had happened. ‘Don’t leave’ she tried to call out, but no sound came out.

The image barely faded into existence, her vision blurry, her head throbbing as life slowly made its way back through her body. A few seconds more, the distortion erode and an image stained upon her memory, of Alisa and the nurturing, affectionate smile that Vyra had already come to find solace within. “Alisa?” She spoke, her voice rough, her vision still struggling to fully appreciate the most minor details, an element not made any easier by the slightly darker area that she now found herself in. It was perhaps the most noticeable thing that Vyra recognized outside of the woman overlooking her; no longer were they within the clear, yet brutal waters, but instead rather upon dry land, albeit some ways away from where she last recalled.

“Where… what happened?” Her head felt as though it were split open, a short moment of throbbing pain responded with the rush of blood coming to her head as she made an attempt to get up, instead settling on simply leveraging her torso upright as she pushed slightly off the dirt. Her eyes settled on Alisa for a moment before her focus shifted a bit to else around her, the towels laid about, including the one that Vyra lay on presently. All of her ached, but with consciousness restored, her mind calmer than prior, there were a part of her that felt better than before.

As things began to clear and more of what happened returned to her, her heart sank slightly. “I’m sorry. I guess, I don’t know, I don’t know what happened to me. Just started feeling weak...” she glanced over to Alisa, a disappointed look on her face, shame in her heart for being so weak. She tried to manage a weak smile to mask her failings.“Thank you for saving me.”

“Sorry to put that on you.” She turned from Alisa, her eyes simply watching the sea, a view similar to that of when they had first arrived at the beach, there being still the same beauty within eyesight, though it was impossible to ignore her experience only a little bit ago, nor could she separate it from the beautiful sight before her. “I feel like that is all I’ve been doing to you. Forcing my problems on you…”

Time passed as the two of them sat there, an almost eerie sense of tranquility in the area. Not a soul appeared to disturb them, the natural sounds of the tide coming and waves crashing upon the shore served together to be a beautiful compliment to the company Alisa and Vyra provided one another. While Vyra was content with such a situation, there was something that lingered on within her mind, something that she could not completely wrap her head around.

“Alisa?” She worried how the woman may have responded to a question like this, but Vyra knew so little of the woman still. Their time together had provided Vyra with small insights into Alisa, hints to her person, but they barely told a story to whom she really was. To say that it intrigued Vyra would be an underselling; more, it fascinated her. She fascinated her. “Everyone I’ve known, nobody has treated me like I matter except you. But you’re not like them. You’re important, rich, you’re beautiful, the people love you.”

“You’re perfect. You’re everything that I’m not, which is what I don’t get. What do you see in me? I just can’t figure it out.”

A gentle gust managed its way unto Vyra and Alisa, the sensation having almost a foreign feel, if not at least, a tempered presence, particularly compared against when the two were out in the water. To feel the wind then, a rough claw scraping upon the wet skin, leaving no direct pain, but rather a sharp, almost piercing cold, it stood as a complete yet welcome contrast to feeling it now. As Vyra lay across from Alisa, she could not help but slightly chuckle at clumps of her own light blue hair being blown across the entirety of her face. From between what of her that didn’t distort her vision, she simply watched as it hardly seemed to phase Alisa.

A low rumble emerged from within Vyra; the meal that they had, despite only being a short bit ago, feeling as though it had been had hours, if not days ago. Although there were certainly more food that could have been had at the time by her, it may not have been the worst thing that Alisa pulled her aside. Left to her own accord, Vyra almost certainly would have eaten to the point of becoming grossly full. But after what had proven to be a rather dramatic, if not draining, time at the beach thus far, food may not have been a bad idea. It was hard to say as to just how much time had passed from between when she lost and subsequently regained consciousness.

Vyra giggled as she heard another faint growling coming from her stomach, “Heh, food sounds pretty good.” She watched on with rapture and intrigue as Alisa materialized the food that they had been eating earlier, much like how she had before been able to manipulate things, from the small bag when they first met, to the very same basket that appeared before them again, Vyra didn’t know how, but she still marveled at nonetheless. Even more, as she reached in and felt one of the delicious croissants from earlier, it had the very same texture, it felt just as fresh in her hands as it did before. Without a second thought, she took a hearty bite out of the baked good, a smile widening across her face as she tasted it once again.

She looked towards Alisa, grabbing hold of one of the basket’s sides and tilted it towards her, inviting her to join Vyra. Just as before, the meal laid out before them was intended for both of them. The venue may have changed, but the meal nor its intended recipients did not. But a meal did not tear Vyra from what she had been curious of; Why. Why Vyra? She wasn’t special, hardly deserving of the shown affection that someone like Alisa had given her. And when the woman initially responded with the remark about people helping one another, Vyra couldn’t help but find it a bit hard to believe herself. If it were natural, then surely Vyra would have seen such acts before today, right?

A small bite, more like a nibble, but it felt like all Vyra could really do to respond to what Alisa was saying. She thought back to their initial encounter, the first thing that Alisa had seen of Vyra was her being attacked by the baker for something that she had not done. Likely anyone who had taken witness to that, however much Vyra wanted to doubt the willingness of people to help another, would have found themselves at least somewhat invested. But even then, certainly not as much as Alisa had cared towards Vyra. That feeling of guilt that every so often had been plaguing her began to creep in once again hearing this. She took another bite of the croissant, hoping the taste would sufficiently mask the unwanted feeling.

As she planned to take another bite, what Alisa said next left her stunned. Alisa spoke positively of her, praised her even, finding value and worth within Vyra from things that she thought did not amount to anything. But perhaps what she said about Vyra having managed to persevere up to this point, it left Vyra unsure how to respond. Was it strength that had allowed her to make it to this point? So often she had found herself ready to just give up, to simply allow cruel act the world was to force upon her next to just do it. She never viewed her surviving as something of strength. She never thought of herself as someone strong. Could she have been so wrong this whole time?

What else had she been wrong about?

Alisa reached out, her hand resting softly against Vyra’s arm, the half-eaten croissant in her hand falling onto the towel in which she laid on, and Vyra reached out, wrapping her arms around Alisa, her head nestled into the tall woman’s shoulder, and she cried. She had already cried her heart out once, but out of pain, of a need to release agony all too long withheld. And she had cried again, her heart warmed by Alisa’s words, of confidence in a world to be had, of things Vyra felt she may never come to know.

Her tears were that of a spirit being restored. Coming from the bottom of one’s own soul, finding nothing there but the remains of dreams and hopes that were snuffed apart before every being given a chance only to find a small ember still burning, life and hope resonating within. She had wondered what Alisa saw in her and the answer left Vyra at a loss for words.

Alisa had seen hope, goodness in her. A life worth living.

She wished that she had a better way to respond to what she was hearing, but she just couldn’t. As she cried, moments throughout the day played out within her mind. In her wildest dreams, Vyra could not have imagined anything having played out like this. Life had been cruel to her, and for the first time, she had reason to be hopeful, and it was all thanks to this woman. “I won’t! I swear!” She cried through tears, her grip around Alisa tightening as though to convey some sort of reassurance, just something.

But to hear what Alisa had to say next, it was as though life rushing back into Vyra, her body unsure how to respond, her mind not sure what to make of it, her heart racing, her eyes opening wide as she gripped hold of both of Alisa’s shoulders and pulled back slightly, a look of grave concern and panic upon her face as she stared into her eyes. To believe that something could have happened to bring a woman as strong as she had shown to be, horrid thoughts ran through as to what could have happened.

A single line of thinking sprung into her mind, causing Vyra to simply gaze at her, petrified at the possibility that once upon a time that she had been sexually assaulted, just as Vyra had. Her grip disappeared from Alisa’s shoulder, as though all strength were instantly lost. Her hand and eyes trailed down Alisa’s chest, going lower until abruptly stopping at her navel, at which point she recoiled her hand as though having been bitten by some sort of invisible creature. She jerked her head back up, looking eye to eye with Alisa, the pain that came with reliving a truly harrowing memory all too evident within Vyra’s eyes. “Not you too…” Her words were weak, the idea that Alisa may have also been a victim left Vyra utterly mortified.


Vyra threw herself at Alisa again, holding on as tightly as she could, her own nails clawing into her arms while she held onto the woman who up to this point had never allowed any vulnerabilities be exposed. She did not know how else to respond. Vyra had gone through hell throughout her life, no mistake, but she was thrown to a world that was unforgiving, one that she was unprepared for. She was weak, if one wished to look at it from that perspective. Alisa did not seem at all like that. She was strong. She had only shown strength up to this point, for her to have suffered like she had, Vyra didn’t know what to say. The only thing that came to mind were the same words that Alisa had spoken to her, she prayed that it could do something for her like it did for her, “It’s not your fault.”

There was no certainty that Vyra would ever fully know what happened to Alisa. Vyra had cried her heart out to her, but that did not mean that Alisa was ever to do the same, and that was fine. Vyra did not need Alisa to open up like she had; she only hoped that Alisa knew Vyra was here for her.

It felt as though time stood still between them. Vyra held Alisa close, having felt something that for so long seemed like a wishful dream that she may never actually see or experience for herself; it had crept near her throughout her travels, among the children whom ran to their mothers to rid them of their woes, their pains, their fears, to celebrate with them of their feats, and to give them the strength to stand tall like giant slayers. Motherly love. It was something that she never felt for herself from her mother, and while Alisa were not that, together she felt more like that of those children that she looked upon with jealousy than she had ever felt with anyone before, her mother or otherwise.

She didn’t know for how long that the two of them had been there. Her breathing had long since calmed, the tears that she had cried cease, first out of appreciation for the kind words that Alisa had spoken, then of pain for whatever hardships had befallen that same woman. She still found it hard to believe that someone like Alisa could have had as hard a life as her, but perhaps she should not have. From the streets in which she was barely even viewed as a person, it seemed as though everyone had the benefit of having a better state of living by simply having a life that were not hers.

For so long she had been convinced it were just the hand she had been dealt in being brought into this world. Her mother despised everything about her, from her horns to her very existence. Vyra’s last memory of her will forever be seeing her lunging at her with a knife, intent on taking her life. It was a cruel beginning to her life, but surely it could have only meant that things would get better. Until she had met Alisa earlier this morning, it seemed that the only thing certain was that her days were numbered. But perhaps that may still be true. Today had proven to be a change in fortunes, but despite how insistent Alisa was, there were no certainties that Vyra’s fate had changed for the better.

Perhaps. Perhaps that were true and whatever faith Vyra had had restored in this world was nothing more than a fleeting moment, as consequential or lasting as a simple mound of sand that was washed away by the tides. She had seen plenty who seemingly were in a situation that Vyra were in now, their fortunes changed, destined to have a better life than before; and so many of them would fall back to the same fate that they were bound to before. It was a constant trap, to come just close enough to glimpse at the light, only for the shadows to drag them even deeper than before.

But she was willing to take that risk. This glimpse of hope that Alisa had given her, it may have been nothing more than an illusion, that light peering down upon her. There were no shadows here though, not while she remained here in Alisa’s company.

She pulled her head, having rested it upon Alisa’s shoulder for so long, just enough to allow herself a glimpse of what Alisa had turned her focus towards. The sky, once a beautiful clear blue, scarcely a cloud in the sky, had changed harshly in color, the blues that gave it a singular color replaced with an assortment of reds, oranges, and purples, the sun having begun its daily ritual of retreating for the night, painting the sky full of color before surrendering it to the moon. It was both a beautiful yet discerning sight, as much a memorable end to what had been a fulfilling and emotionally-exhaustive day, but as well an invitation for the uncertainties that the night would hold.

It did not help that Vyra’s past few nights in Hargeon had not been particularly kind to her, and only seemed to get worse.

As the end of the season loomed closer and closer with each day, activity within the docks only picked up, with more ships coming in to port, more workers being tasked with handling the various affairs of said ships, and staying longer and longer into the nights. Add alcohol and a bigotry fueled by frustration and a sense of underappreciation, and it would take little to no provocation for them to view Vyra as an acceptable outlet. Fortunately, she had been able to largely avoid running into any such interactions, but not without an added level of vigilance on her part which only added to the stress and panic that she already carried into the night.

Her eyes had barely taken off of the sunset before them, the colors gradually shifting to dark shades of blue, the sun becoming less and less noticeable, when Alisa’s voice brought her back to focus. She found herself struggling to come up with the right words, her mind having begun to rush to figure out how best to survive a night with one of the darker sides of Hargeon without anywhere close to the amount of time that she would normally have to prepare for such survival. Yet, in an instance, Alisa had provided her with a way of avoiding it, not just the preparation, but the risk entirely.

“Really? You mean it?” She took a deep breath, a boulder of worries that had just been placed onto her shoulders being lifted up, allowing her a chance to breathe. It was difficult to express just how grateful she was towards Alisa; it had seemed that everything that Alisa had done, everything she had said up to this point, while to her they may have not seemed all that significant, to Vyra they had meant the world. And as someone who has nothing, to be provided with such a great gift, one upon another, gratitude can only go so far or at least one is left to feel.

Fighting back emotions, her face evidence enough of the desire to fight back tears that the body had already exhausted, Vyra smiled, trying to keep herself composed for what may have been the first time of late. “I… I don’t know how to thank you… Truly, how can I ever thank you?” She reached forward and gave Alisa a hug; not the lengthy embraces that she had provided the woman earlier, but one that was short, but laced in emotion and gratitude.

After a short moment, she released her grip upon the taller woman, turning her attention towards what was left of their little picnic the towels thrown about within the sand, the croissants that they had been eating as embedded within the sand like that of a seashell. Vyra put forward an effort to try to arrange things, to preferably provide a tidier departure, though with whatever the device was that Alisa had been utilizing, the efficiency and ease at which it seemed to resolve minor inconveniences like the removal of sandy towels, made her effort seem for naught. She didn’t mind; to have helped in a futile effort still left her more guilt-free than if she had done nothing.

As the two set to depart, Vyra took a final look upon the beach. It was still hard to believe that their little arrival here would have been as impactful, certainly to Vyra, who found herself a bit exhausted even just thinking of what happened. But also to Alisa, who in the time that the two of them had arrived upon that sand, had revealed far more of herself to Vyra than what the Demi-human could have imagined. It had brought both of them closer, perhaps more than what either of them had first expected that it would.

Following behind Alisa, Vyra made little effort to try to venture off or sightsee like she had earlier. Not only was this an area that she was unfamiliar with, but the danger that was the rougher side of the Hargeon night life was still a very real thing that she dreaded encountering. She took hold of Alisa’s hand, holding it close like a child holding the hand of their mother. All the while, she kept her head perked; though the sun was just now setting and there were still some time before the men retired from the docks for the night, to those with the wrong intentions, she certainly stuck out, and for all the wrong reasons.

Nevertheless, she followed Alisa towards wherever it were that the woman had planned for Vyra. And while she did not know where it was, that was perhaps the one thing of their venture through Hargeon that did not worry her. Today, for all that it had brought upon Vyra, the heartache, the pain, the revelations, despite it being the emotional rollercoaster that it was, it had also done something else. It had given her hope. Alisa had given her hope.

And in that hope came trust. Trust that wherever it was that they were going, Alisa was taking her someplace safe.

Someplace safe. It would be the first time that Vyra felt that.